Endangered
by TommyHalen
Summary: OC, Kanto-based. Tommy is forced to run from a malevolent government, avoid the carnage of a civil war and blend in with the underbelly of a broken-down society, all in the name of survival. But just as he comes to terms with the fact that his dreams didn't turn out as he had expected, he starts to realise that there is more at stake than his own selfish desires.
1. Chapter One: Worse

**I posted this a year ago but things got in the way and I couldn't commit. Well, now I can.**

**I also posted this a week ago but it was deleted because I put my author's notes in a separate chapter. No comment.**

**I rated this M for the references to drugs and the strong violence and graphic imagery throughout this story.**

**Of course, I don't own the world of pokémon as much as I wish that was possible, so credit goes to those who do.**

**I'm using OCs, as I don't think the characters from the anime would last long in this story. Maybe some. Constructive criticism is very welcome.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter One: Worse

An incessant beeping hounded Tommy as he entered his dark apartment. He flung his bag onto the couch, causing a mound of laundry on the arm to teeter, and plonked himself at his desk. A button flashed red on the keyboard, twinging the shadows with a fiery glow. Squinting, he slammed the button with one hand and shielded his eyes with the other. The videophone monitor shone to life and a familiar, wizened face appeared.

"Oh, good. You're home," Professor Ercus said, abandoning the typical pacing of his laboratory. He half-stumbled as he took a seat at his desk. "I was really beginning to worry."

Tommy caught the grave concern in the professor's voice and didn't attribute it to his late return home.

"Is everything okay, Professor?"

"Sure, sure. Well, no. Not really."

Tommy's worry snapped to suspicion. A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth and his blue eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair. "You're stalling. What have you done this time?"

"My dear boy, I am a professor and you will not—"

"You're right, that was rude of me," Tommy interrupted, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. "What I meant to ask was, what terrible situation have you accidentally found yourself in now, which you will almost definitely require me to take the fall for?"

Tommy expected the professor's pale lips to curve into a smile. He expected deep wrinkles to form around his eyes, the way they always did whenever he joked around. But his mentor barely reacted at all. A cold shiver crept along Tommy's spine, and then the professor spoke, his voice anxious. "Have you been able to watch the news?"

Tommy's jaw dropped open as he lurched forward, causing his chair to slide back. "You were on the news? What did you do?"

"No, I didn't mean that!" the professor backtracked, shaking his head. He then paused to take a prolonged breath. When he finally spoke, Tommy noticed his voice had gained a sombre, mournful quality that had a way of slowing down time. "There has been another incident. The details are unclear, but I suspect another battle has gotten out of hand. Fourth time this month, you know. Eleven humans and two pokémon killed. Three people injured."

Tommy sagged into his chair and groaned. "It's getting worse."

"More frequent, too," the professor added, much to Tommy's dismay. "And what with the ceremony being tomorrow, I can only understand why the council is in uproar. Our job is hard enough and quite frankly this couldn't have happened at a worse time. Alleviating the public's tension tomorrow won't be easy. Issuing pokémon licences to new trainers isn't a logical move to make at a time like this."

"Aw, don't say that," Tommy grumbled, his shoulders flinching. "The council can't interfere now. This is so unfair! Only a decade ago trainers received their first pokémon at the age of ten—and they could carry six of them!"

"People are dying, Tommy," Professor Ercus said. "Over twenty casualties in a month, for goodness sake. A decade ago, that was unheard of."

Tommy's stomach knotted with guilt. He made a mental note to kick himself later for being so self-centred. He dropped his gaze from the professor, unable to maintain eye contact, but after a moment of silence he looked back up, his eyes alive with passion. His voice had a way of becoming low, velvet-smooth and highlighting the absolute sincerity in every word. "I'm sorry, Professor, really. I'm just excited about getting my pokémon tomorrow. I've waited my whole life for this . . . but I can't stand to see what is becoming of Celadon City. Every day I see arguments breaking out. Protests. Fights, even. Too many people are unable to control the resentment they feel towards pokémon."

"Can we blame them?" The professor asked, shrugging. "Some of them have lost family members. Others have found their house or business in ruins. It's a lot of anger for anyone to control, and usually in such circumstances an easy target takes the brunt. They're looking to place the blame on someone, and while the ones responsible for these fatalities are unknown, who else to point the finger at than pokémon themselves?"

Tommy managed to stop his eyes from widening in horror but failed to keep the revulsion from seeping into his voice. "It sounds like you _agree_ with them."

"I will never accept that pokémon are at fault," Professor Ercus assured him. "I'm merely saying that I understand how they reached this standpoint."

Tommy relaxed a little, satisfied with the professor's response. "How mad is the council? What have they been saying?"

"That is the reason I needed to speak to you tonight," he said, his voice falling to a lower register. "I've noticed the council gathering in secret all week. Since the ceremony is tomorrow, I can only guess that is what the fuss is over. I'm unable to say for sure because, well, the thing is . . . they stopped inviting me to meetings."

"What!" Tommy growled, his hands gripping onto the armrests of his chair. "Why would they just cut you out like that?"

"I believe they are planning to do something drastic," the professor confessed. "And as much as I hate to admit it, drastic might be exactly what Celadon City needs right now."

The pile of clothes finally slipped off the couch and crashed to the floor, but Tommy was too invested in the conversation to take notice. He opened his mouth to speak but faltered before his mouth could form a single word. He hung his head, crushed.

"I need to ask you something," Professor Ercus said. The added gravity in his tone made Tommy look up and almost forget that his greatest dream was crashing down around him. "Could you promise to meet me in the lab before the ceremony?"

Tommy sensed that the professor's distress was deeply rooted in this strange demand. Did he know more than he was letting on?

His suspicions were confirmed when the professor suddenly became unable to look at him. He fiddled with a loose button on his lab coat as he spoke. "I want to see what I can dig up about the council's plan of action beforehand. We can go to the ceremony right after."

Tommy recalled the professor's peculiar habit of following people around and hearing more than one set of ears should. If he hadn't been feeling a sickening, plummeting sensation in the pit of his stomach, he might have been slightly amused. "Okay, sure. See you tomorrow."

They exchanged weak smiles before ending the video call. Tommy's slid off his face the moment the monitor turned black and his apartment fell into absolute darkness.

He staggered to bed, kicked off his boots and then threw himself onto the mattress, not bothering to get under the covers. He felt a ferocious battle of two emotions both fighting to dominate his thoughts. One was a jolt of excitement that rushed through his entire being, because the very next day he was going to obtain a pokémon, his oldest and greatest desire. The second was fear and apprehension due to the prospect of the council interfering with the ceremony, and the growing fury of those who had been affected by the life-claiming pokémon battles.

The latter loomed over him like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over his joy.


	2. Chapter Two: Misuse

Chapter Two: Misuse

The sixth time Tommy woke from a short, restless sleep, he decided to cut his losses. After his morning routine of stretching and groaning, he sat up and felt a sudden warmth touch his cheek. A beam of sunlight jutted through a gap in the curtains, lighting his face with pure ecstasy and marking the beginning of what he knew would be the best day of his entire life.

He sprung out of bed and landed with one foot inside a bowl of old cereal. Too absorbed by the day ahead to be grossed out by the lumpy consistency of the milk, he chuckled, tore off the wet sock and then scooped up the bowl and balanced it on a tower of plates in the sink. After pouring himself a fresh bowl he sat beside the window and pulled one side of the curtains open. The height of his apartment offered a spectacular view of Celadon City.

The sun peeked over the top of the enormous department store in the distance, causing a long shadow to fall over the orderly rows of houses before it. To his right, a soaring, pink-bricked hotel loomed over a cluster of tourist hotspots, his favourites including the Game Corner Arcade and the fairground, an alluring pocket of vibrant lights and looping roller-coaster tracks.

Celadon Forest bordered the city, a rolling blanket of luscious greens, the foliage thriving in the summer heat. Countless flocks of pidgeot were beginning to leave their nests in search of food, and could be seen foraging along the banks of a glistening river that snaked its way through the forest and into the city and housing estates.

On the pavement below, Tommy noticed a small family walking towards Celadon University, a neat arrangement of tall buildings which outlined an enormous park. It was in this location that the inhabitants of Celadon would gather for the annual ceremony and witness new trainers receive their pokémon licence. Hot dog venders, ice-cream vans and many other kinds of portable businesses were being prepared for a long day of serving the public. Event organisers were hustling about, too, handing out flyers, hanging colourful banners and streamers in the trees and constructing a high podium for the head of the council to address the public during the ceremony.

Tommy scanned the third floor of the University, picking out the location of Professor Ercus's lab.

Thinking about the professor immediately brought back the conversation he had with him the previous night, and his newfound fear of interference from the council. He also recalled the painful news that another pokémon battle had ended in tragedy. The realisation that protestors may be preparing to take a stand against the celebrations made his stomach jolt.

_Please just let today happen_.

The thought was followed by the guilt that always accompanied his selfishness. He let out a small sigh, his enthusiasm somewhat quelled. Looking back to the event organisers in the park, he immediately convinced himself that they had hung up a lot less decorations than they had the year before. Surely there had been more banners than that?

His gaze landed on the small family again. This time he watched them with intense scrutiny, and despite the great distance, decided that they did not appear excited enough.

Several minutes passed as he watched the city, fretting about what could lie ahead and spying on random people, wondering if they were contemplating the same scenarios that were troubling him.

It wasn't until he realised that his cereal had gone mushy did he put his racing thoughts of negativity aside and vow to stop his worries from ruining a perfectly glorious day.

* * *

After Tommy showered he dressed in shorts and a vest and then left his apartment, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes and speculating how he would kill the couple of hours he had until the ceremony began.

Just as he reached the stairwell the answer came to him in the form of a thick, toxic aroma that did a good job of violating his sense of smell, considering the tolerance he had built from living in an apartment that was indefinitely suspended in a state of chaos.

He changed course and headed over to his friend's apartment. Noticing that the door was ajar, he pushed it open and stepped inside, fighting back the urge to pinch his nose. The vile smell of chemicals had intensified.

"Well, if it isn't little Tommy Halen on his big day," Max said from the couch once he came into view.

Tommy waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and then took a seat. Since the curtains were closed, the only source of light came from a small TV that had the volume on so low he could barely hear it.

"Your apartment smells like an experiment."

Something white flashed on the TV screen, illuminating the coffee table in front. Several test tubes were strewn across the surface, most containing remnants of what looked to be a black, sticky substance.

"I guess I was right," said Tommy, inspecting the tubes from a safe distance. "I'm kind of afraid to ask, but what have you been up to?"

Max placed a hand on his heart and arranged his expression into one of feigned offense. His pallid complexion heavily contrasted with the dim, yet the dark crescents under his eyes and his mane of hair were almost lost in shadow. "Thank you ever so much for your concern, but since you failed to ask politely, I will refrain from telling you."

Tommy blinked.

"Okay, watch this," Max said, grasping a clean test tube from the table. "Koffing! Get in here!"

A large, purple orb came floating in from another room, its eyes droopy and sullen. It bore a picture of a skull over crossbones on what Tommy considered to be its chest. The koffing hovered to a stop in front of its master and said its own name in a depressed stupor.

"Do your thing," said Max, holding the opening of the tube to Koffing's mouth. The koffing exhaled into the container, spewing a murky gas inside. "Ah, geeze, you got some on me again. Just get out of here!"

Tommy's hands became fists. He watched Koffing tilt forward in what he took to be a dejected manner, the way a human would hang their head in despair, and glide back out of the room. It was difficult for Tommy to suppress the burning desire to snatch the tube from Max and ram it down his throat.

"Chill," said Max, detecting Tommy's stiff demeanour and sudden change in expression. "Koffing knows I don't mean most of the things I say. Besides, he only produces toxic gas when he's upset."

Tommy didn't see how that justified his behaviour, however he knew too well that Max had a tendency to turn hostile upon receiving judgement from others. On top of that he remembered his earlier vow to himself; he refused to let anything negative ruin his day. He pushed his anger aside and continued to watch Max demonstrate his experiment.

With his thumb clamped over the test tube, Max used his free hand to lift a glass spray bottle from under the table. "After I have the gas in here, I add this."

Tommy eyed the spray, recognising the blue liquid it contained at once. "Max Potion?"

"It's great how fitting that is, isn't it?" said Max, a stupid grin curling from ear to ear. He wasted little time squirting a few shots of Max Potion in with the gas and then placed his thumb back over the tube. The substance foamed and bubbled, becoming a muddy liquid and then quickly fizzling back into a gas.

Max then did something Tommy never would have anticipated. He brought the tube to his lips and inhaled the gas, drawing it deep into his lungs.

"What the hell are you-"

But Max silenced him by raising a finger to indicate he was about to explain. He shut his eyes tight and then slowly exhaled a thick, spiralling plume of smoke. Tommy finally gave in and covered his nose after he was hit with an eye-watering stench.

Max's eyes opened, gleaming with delight. When he spoke, Tommy snorted, half due to the nasty taste that was now caught in his throat and half because Max's voice had become ridiculously high pitched, as if he had just swallowed a balloon. "The healing properties of the Potion counteract the toxicity of the gas, eliminating any unwanted side effects. The way they combine is just . . . incredible. But I need to find a way of making the gas last longer in the tubes so that I can start making some serious money."

Tommy was about to ask who would pay for such a thing, but the look of absolute euphoria on his friend's face stopped him in his tracks. He was sitting there with a vacant expression and just the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, taking deep, calm breaths, as if he had reached a level of satisfaction far beyond what the ordinary world could offer.

"You're getting high off your pokémon," said Tommy. His lips pressed together to make a straight line. "Unbelievable."

"I call it 'Max's Potion'. That should stay off the radar, right?" said Max. His voice had returned to a normal pitch, but had become slow and lazy. He allowed the tube to fall from his hand and onto the carpet. "The buzz is just . . . indescribable. It's a shame I'll never be able to get you to try some. You wouldn't be so quick to throw your judgements around."

"Well, you're right about one thing," Tommy shot back. "You'll never get me to try some."

"That's cute," said Max. His smile had vanished and there was a harder edge to his tone. "And ever so moral, as always. Just like that professor you love so much. Well go on; say it. I know you're just dying to tell me this is a misuse of pokémon. Am I right?"

Tommy allowed his silence to confirm it was true.

"You know, it's not like I'm using Koffing to hurt anyone. Take these lunatics we hear about on the news, for example. Now _that's_ a misuse of pokémon."

Max grabbed a remote from the arm of the couch and raised the volume on the TV.

An attractive female reporter was standing in front of a library, where it was clear a fire had taken place. The windows that had not shattered from the heat had been blacked out by smoke, and there was a gaping hole in the roof, surrounded by charred tiles.

". . . Such as the other disasters that have recently occurred," announced the reporter. "It remains to be seen if the inferno was caused by a human or a pokémon, despite several witness reports that place a growlithe to the scene minutes before the fire."

A phone number and stock image of a growlithe appeared onscreen, along with a caption that urged anyone with any information on the growlithe to call in. The growlithe, an orange dog with cream tuffs of fur on its head and chest, may not have seemed particularly vicious, but the pokemon's reputation for following commands with absolute ferocity was well documented.

"Is this wreckage the work of a wild pokémon acting on its own accord, or as many people believe, the carnage left behind from another deadly pokémon battle? It's unclear if any of these incidences are related or who is responsible, but one thing that couldn't be more apparent is that today is a sorrowful day indeed for the people of Celadon City."

"Today?" Tommy repeated, confused. "But Professor Ercus told me about this last night . . . he said it happened on Route 7."

"That was yesterday. This happened a few hours ago," said Max, causing Tommy's heart to sink. "I'm sure this was deliberate. There's no way all of these people are getting killed just because some trainers don't know when to call it quits. I'll tell you something else for free, too. Whoever is doing this is upping their game. The library is a risky place to attack in broad daylight, right before the ceremony. The city is swarming with security. There were more deaths this time, too. The last body count was at fifteen."

"Fifteen . . . ," was all Tommy could say, barely above a whisper.

"Fire types are just the worst, aren't they?" said Max, smirking.

Tommy watched him with clenched teeth, appalled by his smug attitude and complete lack of sensitivity. Then something within him snapped. He jumped to his feet, seething as the rage he had been fighting to supress took control.

"You might not be worse than whoever is doing that," he said, pointing at the TV. "But you're no better, either. You don't deserve to have a pokémon. These deaths are going to force the council to do something crazy, like put an end to pokémon battles, and it's all because of people like you."

"The council put an end to pokémon battles the moment they limited everyone to a single pokémon," Max countered, glaring back at Tommy but remaining surprisingly calm. "Just leave, Tommy. If you're going to be your usual self and freak out at me then I'd prefer it if you weren't here."

"That's perfect," Tommy hissed, getting to his feet, "because I was just wondering why I even bothered to come over here."

"It's my fault, really. I keep leaving my door unlocked," said Max, still eerily calm. "I'll have to stop doing that."

Tommy stormed out of the apartment and came to a stop inside the hall, listening to the echoes of the door crashing shut and the sound of his shallow breathing.


	3. Chapter Three: E010

Chapter Three: E010

An hour before the ceremony was due to start, Professor Ercus sauntered into the reception area of the university with an air of purpose. An intense ray of sunlight shone through the glass entrance doors to his left, lighting the marble floor and metallic walls with a golden glow. To his right, a portly guard was slumped behind a curved desk. Despite the tumultuous chatter that could be heard from the spectators who were gathering in the park outside, the guard had managed to fall into a deep sleep.

Professor Ercus knocked politely on the desk.

The guard jerked awake and regarded him with sleepy eyes. "Apologises, Professor. What can I do for you?"

He repeated the words he had carefully rehearsed. "I was wondering if you would kindly lend me your master key. I have only gone and misplaced my laboratory key again. The night guard already gave me the last spare just a week ago . . . Old age, you know."

The guard scratched his many-layered chin. "Shouldn't be handing that out . . ."

"You could come and open the door for me?" he bluffed, praying it wouldn't be called. For a horrible moment the guard began to get up, but then he hesitated and allowed his enormous bulk to fall back into the comfort of his chair.

"You're alright, Professor," the guard said, removing the master key from a chain on his belt and offering it to him. "Hurry back with it, mind."

"Sure. Thank you."

He took the key and turned away before a change in his expression could betray him.

As he left the reception area a sudden thought occurred to him. What if the guard watched him on the security cameras? He peered over his shoulder, his worries instantly put at ease. The guard's head had lolled to the side and his eyes had fallen shut once more.

The professor continued on, grateful that the ceremony was causing a laxation of security inside the building, and for the blistering heat and the drowsy effect it had.

He navigated the bright halls of the university, making his way to the government quarters, the newest section of the building. Annex Hall and the office complexes that rose up either side of it like stone guards were constructed behind the university ten years ago as a way of fulfilling the sudden requirements of the councillors and mayor of the city.

Almost a decade ago, council meetings were held at City Hall in the Northern Ward of Celadon. However, due to a spike in pokémon-related crimes, the council was forced to relocate to the Southern Ward and in back of the university. This allowed them to call upon the special expertise of the professors and academics, whose understanding of pokémon was indisputably unparalleled. A year after the construction of Annex Hall and with the professional input of the professors, the council issued a ruling based on general consensus which banned all inhabitants of Celadon from possessing more than a single pokémon. Soon after, the law was amended so that the age restriction was raised to eighteen.

The professor grimaced, recalling the memory of a ten year old Tommy and the broken look on his face when he was told he would have to wait another eight years until he was allowed to have a pokémon.

He'd never forget the look in his eyes. He'd never shake the guilt.

At the time, he believed wholeheartedly that the restrictions were just and would better the community. In hindsight, he could see that it wasn't enough. A decrease in crime had been recorded throughout Celadon, cementing the council's justification for the new law, but the turnaround soon fell flat. It seemed that there was a costly flipside to the restrictions that they had not anticipated. The public's determination had been channelled into raising their one remaining pokémon, meaning its level and power increased at an alarming rate, and with it, the chance for that power to be misused.

Of course, this was only a small part of the problem. The restrictions had inspired rebellion and hate throughout the city. He believed the people of Celadon still hadn't forgiven the council. While some might have understood the reasons behind the restrictions, everyone felt the wound that had been slashed in the community and the great scar it left behind.

And it was all for nothing.

Tommy's voice spoke inside his mind, as clear as it had been the previous night. _It's getting worse._

Professor Ercus was determined to discover exactly what the council planned to do about it.

The government quarters had a modern feel. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling and were double-paned. Most of the furniture was made entirely of glass, save for the armoured doors. He knew the area well enough, though he rarely ventured into the office complexes. He was permitted exclusive access into Annex Hall and only when meetings were scheduled.

Entering a final corridor, he shot a furtive glance at a security camera overhead, confident that he was not being monitored. In fact, he had not run into a single person since he left the reception area. He could still hear a faint rumble of many voices coming from the park and once again thanked the ceremony for lending him the perfect distraction.

He stopped before an armoured door at the end of the passage and checked through the tiny window at eye level. The office was vacant. He injected the master key into the lock and twisted. The door clicked open. He pocketed the key and stepped inside.

The entire far wall of the office was made of tempered glass, presenting a dark view of the adjacent forest. The closeness of the trees restricted the amount of light that passed through, creating an illusion that it was a later time of day.

A bulky desk with a glass top stood alone in the centre of the room. A gold nameplate beside the computer told him he had found the right office.

Councillor Tenneth was possibly the most influential aldermen on the board of governors and representative of the Southern Ward. If any office was most likely to contain the answers he craved, besides the Mayor's chamber, it was this one.

But the desk was frustratingly bare. He took a seat and scanned around the monitor. Nothing. He pulled open desk drawers, hoping to find a bounty of papers to root through. Each draw slid out too easily. Empty. He checked the computer tower for forgotten flash drives, but again, his search was fruitless. How could somebody so important have an office that was completely devoid of documentation?

He eyed the computer again, biting his lip. There was no way he would be able to turn it on without triggering some kind of security precaution, and naturally it would be password-protected.

A low, frustrated growl rumbled in his throat. He stood up in one fluid motion, the adrenaline racing through his veins affording him the energy of someone half his age.

The moment he reached his full height, his eyes found the small window on the door. What he saw through it chilled the blood in his veins.

Councillor Tenneth was walking towards his office.

He ducked behind the desk, frantically scouting for an escape route. His eyes barely registered a tiny door to his right before he was scuttling forward and wrenching it open. Thankfully the cupboard was just as empty as the desk drawers. He twisted his body to the side and jammed himself into the small space, clipping his head on the low ceiling. Once inside he scrambled for the handle, but his fingers scraped against bare wood. The only option he had was to hook his fingers under the door and try to pull it shut, but the gap was too narrow. He couldn't gain enough purchase to pull it home.

That was when he heard a distinct click and the sound of a heavy door swinging open.

Professor Ercus held on to the cupboard door for all he was worth. It was still slightly ajar, revealing a slither of the office beyond. His fingers were trembling under the strain but he knew losing his grip would mean the door would crack open further and expose him.

Councillor Tenneth came into view as he moved behind his desk and paused, becoming unnaturally still. His silver hair was braided behind his back and he wore a formal robe over his clothes despite the scorching weather. For a moment, Professor Ercus couldn't work out why the councillor was just standing there, but then a sickening realisation hit him and his eyes widened in shock. He had forgotten to move the chair back.

After what seemed like an impossibly long time, the councillor readjusted the chair, sat down and then fired up his computer. Professor Ercus watched him intently, trying to steady his laboured breathing and convince himself that the bare cupboard wasn't amplifying every sound he made. His fingers were already numb and the pain from knocking his head was finally starting to register.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" the councillor exclaimed, his voice cracking through the office like a whip.

Professor Ercus gasped, but remained put, his eyes riveted on the councillor. He was still sat at his desk, his cold eyes locked onto the computer monitor.

Satisfied he hadn't been discovered, the professor allowed himself to take gentle breaths as he listened to the video call.

"You were given precise instructions," the councillor said between clenched teeth. "Location. Time. Price. I couldn't have made the agreement any clearer, so do tell me why you failed to adhere to it."

"I-I passed on your instructions word for word," came a nasal reply, a male voice the professor didn't recognise. "And I counted the money m-myself. It was all there!"

"Your courier tried to haggle with me," Tenneth spat out each word as if he had a nasty taste in his mouth. "My time is too precious to waste. Lucky for him, we were interrupted, otherwise I doubt he would have made it back to you. Do you know what that idiot could have cost me? Do you know just how incriminating my association with _your lot_ would look?"

"I-I-" the man stuttered, floundering for redemption. "I'll bring you the money myself."

"Yes, you will," the councillor agreed. "You'll come to my office right now while everyone is focused on the ceremony. I must attend, obviously, and it would be better if I didn't have this with me."

He pulled something out of his pocket and stowed it inside a desk drawer. The professor heard the object roll and then thud against the back of the desk.

"I'm sending you directions to my office," Tenneth continued in a patronising tone. "I trust you to arrive immediately with the full amount, make the exchange and then hurry far away from here. Do not force me to inform your boss of the incompetence of his staff."

"Yes, sir," the man replied. "You got it."

The professor's fingers were now drenched with sweat. He could feel his grip on the cupboard door starting to give.

Thankfully, the councillor had already shut down his computer and was getting to his feet. The professor caught one last glimpse of his calculating eyes before he moved out of view. After a slight pause he heard another metallic click, and then the door opening and closing.

He released his grip, allowing the cupboard door to creak open. Gingerly, he clambered out and got to his feet, rubbing his hands together to get the circulation back to his fingers.

Whilst using his sleeve to mop the sweat from his forehead, he glanced through the little window on the door and caught a flicker of robes as Tenneth rounded a corner.

His neck ached and his head was still throbbing, but none of it compared to the sharp stab of anger he felt towards himself. That's what hurt him most. He had just come dangerously close to losing everything and it would have been for nothing. He didn't find anything.

Then it hit him, a warmth of consolation that overrode his anger. He _did_ find something. The professor rushed over to the desk and pulled the top drawer open. Something red and white rolled into sight and then came to a stop, causing him to gasp. It was a pokéball. But not just any pokéball. The professor lifted it out and studied the markings on its red top.

'E010'

He was one of few people who knew what those markings meant. The pokémon inside was on the endangered species list. Whichever one it was, there weren't many of them left in the region of Kanto.

His mind was racing, turning over the implications of everything he had just learned. It didn't take him long to draw a final conclusion. There was still a lot he didn't understand and he had many questions left to be answered, but his mind had settled on the only two facts that mattered at that moment. First, Councillor Tenneth, a well-respected figure of authority and leader of the Southern Ward, had broken the law by possessing multiple pokémon. Second, there was only one way Tenneth could have possibly obtained it: He had stolen it from a laboratory within the university.

He didn't need to think it over. He didn't need to take a moment to consider his actions and the possible repercussions of them. It was his duty as a pokémon professor to save a dying species from whatever fate that was about to befall it.

Professor Ercus stored the pokéball in an inside pocket, closed the drawer and then hastened to leave the office. But just as he withdrew the master key, he hesitated, once again biting his lip as the makings of another reckless plan began to piece itself together in his mind.

He had saved the endangered pokémon, but that wasn't enough. Councillor Tenneth would get away with his crimes . . . unless he did something.

The more he allowed his plan to formulate, the more confident he became. He checked his watch. The ceremony was due to start in half an hour. He prayed the man would arrive with the money before then.

He'd be waiting.


End file.
